


Colliding Snowflakes.

by drunkinthemorning



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Romance, Suspense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-19 22:32:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3626733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drunkinthemorning/pseuds/drunkinthemorning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Each time a Speedster transcends across the space time continuum, the entire multiverse itself threatens to collapse. As he laid dying in her arms, she knew that the only way for her to save him, would be to return to when it all began. Even if her actions were to tear apart the very fabric of all multiverses in existence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**A/N: A story inspired by all time traveling movies in existence.  
**

Multiverse:

The multiverse is the hypothetical set of infinite or finite possible universes (including the Universe we consistently experience) that together comprise everything that exists: the entirety of space, time, matter, and energy as well as the physical laws and constants that describe them. The various universes within the multiverse are sometimes called parallel universes or "alternate universes".

Using that theory and the ability to travel through time with raw speed, the story revolves around the concept of an entire Universe's creation with each change of history by a Speedster.

* * *

**Chapter: 1**

**Earth 7: Year 3012, April 23, 18:23 PM.**

"Have I ever told you about the Multiverse?"

The elder grinned as he watched the wide eyed child step into the hall of memories, the name of the room that was filled with relics belonging to the heroes of the twenty first century was certainly fitting, as it too brought fond ones of his as well. His own father, bringing him to this exact spot more than half a century ago, he wondered if he looked back then exactly like his grandson this very day.

"They're pockets of different dimensions, each created upon the divergence of their original timeline."

"Isn't that amazing Kale?" The old man chuckled, "imagine an entire new world, same as ours yet as different as can be. There are thousands of those out there, worlds without villains, worlds without famine, hunger, there could even be worlds filled with domesticated dinosaurs."

That certainly got the little boy's attention. "Don't you think it'll be amazing?" The older man continued enthusiastically, "if we could meet ourselves from another universe, to see if we did the things we did differently, or the same. Or to meet ourselves from a Universe... where we are superheroes!"

"I wonder what alternate me's superpower would be, I would love for me to be able to contr-"

"Or if we were villains!" The little boy piped in, "like Professor Zoom!" His tiny little hands swatted across the air in front of him excitedly, "we talked about him in class today!"

"Next week we have a test on how the Flash stopped him during the Crisis of 2031!"

"Speaking of the Flash... Shall we take a look at the Flash's old suit?" The man smiled as they headed towards the opposite end of the room…

* * *

**Earth 23: Year 3012, April 23, 18:23 PM.**

"Have… I e-ever told you… about the Multiverse?"

The elder whispered as he tried to lean forward, ultimately giving up on his futile attempt as his broken body preventing him from doing so. Years of fighting in the war had taken its toll. The man laid covered in scars of all sorts, from long gashes to unhealed lacerations. Without even mentioning his mental ones, it was obvious that he had little time left. He tried again to speak, but only managed to choke on his words and cough, as blood dripped from the corner of his lips.

The little boy moved closer to his dying grandfather, trying to catch onto the words of his last remaining family member.

"They're… _cough_ … pockets of different… dimensions, each created… _cough_ … upon the divergence of t-their original… timeline."

"Isn't that… scary… Kale?" The old man coughed even harder, sending the machines beside them to a whirling beep, before calming down in accordance to the elder's heaving chest. "An… entire new world… Same as ours… yet as different as can be…"

"Worlds like ours… without war… a world where we only advanced in medical health… How can we possibly survive against worlds that were born of war…?"

"That is not your father, Kale…" The old man looked towards the corpse that laid in the opposite end of the room. "Your father… Your father of this world died a long time ago… when they..." The injured elder sneered at the mere mention of it, "When they first attacked. What can a doctor do… with a scalpel against guns we've never… even seen of."

"Much less against his... own son..."

"Grandpa…" The boy whispered, his tiny hands reached out for the older man's wrinkled ones, "do you think… that there's a world out there where we're living happily together? A world without war? With dad, mum and grandma as well?"

"A world filled with heroes like the Flash!" His eyes lit up, but only for a brief moment, "I know he is nothing but a comic book character, but… there's a possibility right? They would save us from those evil men!

"Grandpa?"

Only the whirling of the machine replied him.

* * *

**Earth 666: Year 1432, April 23, 18:23 PM.**

"̲̲̣̗͍͖ͅH͇́a͙͍̞͉̮v̹̲̖̙e̫̜ ̱̣̩͕͜I̲͚̯̲ ͉e͉̞̩v̷͕̫er͇̟͖͚͓̣̗͢ ̗̟̪̠͔̥̕ͅț̴̫̤̳o̟͕͖͜l҉͍̻̪ḍ͉ ͉̰̙̻y̸o̷̼̗͚̱͎u͇̗͟ ̶̼ͅa͟b̮̼̱̩͖͔̗́o͇͓̺̦u͙͚͎̤̯͉ͅt̨̬̟̻̫ ̡͇̱̹̰̫͉͍t͟h͕͡e͕͙̦͉̼͉͟ ̥͍̼̹m̖͙̜̭̙u̹̬͕̭l͍̘̠t̵̹͚̱̰̹͔̙i̯v͞e̵̟̩̣͍r̸̩̹͍̪s͔̣̖̹̖e͕̯͈̰͙̲̜?̝"̠͔̟̪̥͠ͅ  
̘  
̜̬̭T̘͓͕̺̮͝h̞̮̲̱̰̬̭e͇̕ ͏c̮̘̗̹͕͡ͅr̦e͈͈ͅa͇t̵͖̗͕̫͔u̼̭r̞̤̭̩̙͘e͉̰̬̳̣̜͈͟ ̜̹̟̲͖̼s̷̗p̞̰̬͍͢o̦̳̹k̹̲ͅe̟̤ ̼̱͎ţ͕͓̯͎ḫ̷̲r̮ó̟ų̠̦g̛͎̪̯̮̪͕h̼͢ t̲h̖͈̭̣̙̘e̬̫̻i̠̳͙̫̬͖̞r̟͢ c̖̖̪o̼͖͙̳̞͇̞n̥̦̳̣͍̖ń̬͇̲̞͇̦e̯̹̤̠̤̭c̨̫̦̝͍̠̱t͇̞̯̟͓̟͇ȩ̫̤̦d̲̙͙͚ ̞̱͍̬͖͙͘m͍̗̥̼̤̟ì̖̻n̯͓͞d̷̜̹͈̭̺͈s̸̬̣̙̥̮ ̷͉a͏̼s̲̀ ͇͠hi̴͈̥̜̼̗̱s̹͕̦̟ ̡͖͔̭̯̫t̗͇̩̭̫̼e͎̗̞͇͜n̦ͅt̥̖̥̭̱̪̘̀a̡͎̞͔͎c͏l̨̫̯̣̬̻͖e̖̖̦-͍̫̺̤̦͝d̳̙̺͍͢ ̖͈̠͉̼l̥͉̖̣͇i̟͉͎̺m̭̬b̘͓̠̩s̷͍͓ ̢̙̲b͙̱̠͇̜r͎͙u̝͇͕̹̘̻s͔̼͢he͎̟̻͕͓̪d̴͚͕̗̮̝̳͚ a̦̘̱̣̜̯c̸̫̹r̟͕̹͙̳͘os̵̞̱̩͇͎s̸͉ ̯̱̞̹̩͓t̯͍̤̖͓̞͖h̼̲̼̪̬e͔͉̲̤̭͓ ̣͚̻̞s̰͖̣m̟̖̠̮̳̞͓all͕̦͍͚̣̖̭ér̤͡ ̮̞̲̲̼o̶̰̗͓͉n͙e̛̜͍̳̟̟̹̞'̦̱̟͢s ̬͙̺̕h̯̩̱e̼ad͍̱.̖͜ ̻̣͎̻͕̳A̵͎̩̪̩̹ ͚̞̠̹̘͙͎p̦̬̟̞̻̩̯̀a̱̦̗r͡e̬̥̗̕n̬͙̼t̜̜̞̜a҉̱͚̺̭̙l̙ ̲̟̺̦̗̥̀a̠̯c͉͓̦t̻͕i͈͖̯͚̻̜̬o̗̻̠̮̦̝̖͝n̛̲͈͇̦,̶̭ ͕̭̬͖̜͇́o҉͚̹n͍̤͇̟̻̙̗e̥̫̜̘̪̙͟ͅ ̵͉f̨̹͉̳i̛lle̷͍͚d͖̜̝̠͙͞ ̜͉u͕̹̞̺͍͎n͙͇e̜̪̻̭̭͠x̟̯͉̗͖p͖̰̖͜ec̞̠͇̥͕̻̫ţ͍̦̪e̟̳ͅd͉̪̹͕͇̳ ͕̜̜̣̞͇w҉̫i͞ț͉̙̗h̩̭̖̲͓͓ ̩̘̠̩̻̟͞l̩̭̻̖̤̼̗o҉̯̫ͅv̬e̹̹̯̫͍.̻͇̖̣ͅ ̸̼̺̭̞̩  
I̳̖t̷̘̘̭͈'s̡ ̪͝p̬̝̤o̷w͈e̟̜r̨̤͙̫̺̜̣f̺̹͍u̘͍͓l̀ ̺̪͎͖̤̩w̰͓̩̰i̦̱̻n̞̻̙̳g͚s͈ ̸̺̣͙̙̫̤̜w͉r̛͔ap̲͉̜̝̪p҉̹͖̗͚̬e͠d̴̦͉͍̺͓ ̘̘̣͔̬͈̹a̲r͏̘o̞̖͢un̷͖̙̩͎̞dͅ ̡̭͓͍̲͇̯̫ṱ͚h̭̩̝̠͟e͕͎ ̵b̛͕o̘̮̖̟͙d̗̭̦̖̪̪͢y̳̠͙͙̜̝ͅ ̢̦o̶̫f͉̤̦ ̟͔̰i̖̦̼͠t͞'̞͓̟͎ͅs̳ ̧of̞͔̜̥f͉͓̜̳̜͞sp͏̪͈̻͉̲̱̲r̼̝̗̯ͅi̕n̥̘͎̖̯̥g͕͎̯̘̥̺,̭̝̜͎͙̻̥ ̪̗̻̙̝͢p̻̣͎̖͙̳̖r̬̯̙͔̹͇͢oͅv̧̤̼̻͖̱ͅi̮d͍͎̹i̪̖̱n̴̪̺̻g ̧̩͇̭̬̗t͇̱h̙͓̱e̵̜̩̟̻͇̺ ͓̖t̵̗i҉̣n̩̥y̩͍̳̖̜̭͉ ̹͇̙̘̯c̷͓͚̝͈̱͙̻re̶̪̙̰͔̳͙̦a̞̞t̰̺͎̕u͓̜̼r͕̦̣͝e͓̖ ̧͈̠͇̬̝̬͓w͙̗̗͎͘i҉̹͈͎t͎̺h̶͖͕̫̘̮̖ ͇̭͝w̪̗̱a̪͞ͅr̳͙͉̲̖͓̤m͓͍̼̣ţ̘͓̘͉h̸̜͙̘ ̯̞̗͞i͚͚̯̰̘̼̻n̫̬ ̟͉̥ṭ̗̮hi̢͓̝̖͙s̝͉̠̼ ͓̲͝ẖ̢a̫rs̵̱h͏ ̮̠͝w̥̬̞͖͖i̶̘͙̳̖̪̫̼n̦̩̟̻̦̭͓t̜͓̜̲͟e͟r̦ n̯̫̹̲ì͙̫̱͇͚͙ͅg͍͇̝͔̦̱͝h̞̘̀t͖̭̼̦͙͜.̗̝̗͢ ̹̯̳̣̪̱  
̛̹̣̘̰̤  
̪͚͙͞T҉̹h̩͍̜e̦̩͎̲̩͚ ̪͘s͖͓m͖̥̯̗͖͉a͉͎̯l̹̤̥l̨͇̜e̢͖̩̺̰̼̳̥r̷̲ ͙̫̯̤̙̳̦̕c͎͚̭͓ͅrę̠̦̞aṯ̸͓̥u̠̱r҉̖̜̖̖̮̘e̩͍̘̗̠͙͢'̸̫̦̮͍̦ͅs̡͚̩̩̳̭ͅ ͏̬̯̠̳̞̞̦u̪͕̞̜nd̢̙e͖̲̣͓̕v̯̥̰̞̹e̛̟l͙̻̻̩̝o̡p̗̻̦e̷̹d҉̹͓ ͇̯̯͕t͕̣̬̝̳͟é̖̞͉̙̣ņ̣̦̝͉̼̯ͅṱ̴̘̗̼̳̱a̛c̦̬͚͝le̼s̜̬ s̴̫w̳͉̻͠a͎̜͕̫͝r̡̯m͏̘͔̳̻͉̬̙ę̞̯d̼͎͞ͅ ̛͖̻̮̱̯̬e̪̖̥̖͇x̦͢c͉͇̼i͍̙̞̩̫͎t̼͈͖͙̱e̥̲͇̺̜̜̕d̡͎l̩y͓̝̫̞̠, it was ̶c̙͓͎u̥̠̭̣̼̥r̩̹̟̀i̴̱̝̭̩̮̲̲o̦̺̥̻u͏̲s͈͍̞ ̶̘͖̮̼͈of ͖̰t͉͡h̻̲͓̘̥̺ḙ̥̘̣̕ ̱̙͍̯̫͠s͜t̸̳o̻̻̜̦̭̦͍r̳̫̙̺̰̀i͏̙̣͙̞̘̩e̞̤͕s ͇̗̠óf̫̱̭̮̯͖ͅ ṱ̛̜̘͍̬h̺̼͕̮̟̀e̪͎͇͉̺͡ͅ ̥̺̘̗̥̰ͅl̰̘͜a̬͎̺̭͎͈͚͘n҉̬̼̩͙̼d̤̱͍͉̘͓́ ̘a̶̝̥̥͔ͅb͏̮̜̭ov͍̱̹̯͉e̬̺̩ ͎t̯̗̤͇̰͞he̡͈͕m͎.̢̲͉̖̲̹̼ H̴i̳̹̕ͅs̻̮̭̱ ͇̦̭̼̠͔m̬͚͉͙om̳͇ ̱̤̬͚̪n͎e̦̭͓͔͙̤̱͟v̹̺͓̩̯̠e̲̠̼̯̘r̝̰̗ ̙̣͡di̳͎̖͎̫͍̭͘d͖̻̪̼̹̟ ͇͈̫̥̼̞͢ąl͚͔̺̲l̴̺͈̟̬͈̻ͅo̳w͢e̮͍ḑ ̜̲̫̭̼͜h̭͈̫i̙̥̦̗̪͍̠͞m͕̭̪͇̥͇̮ ͙̲̯͕t͠o̧͙̲͉͓͚ͅ ̖̭̯̯̠̲̗̀e̯͇x̳̲̱̝̖̺͝í̻̲̪̥͖̖͙t̥̫̪̳̩ ̼͎̦t̼̕h͏̫͉e̺̫ ̮̼̣̪͓s̗̲͓̹͎a̖̝̲f̡̟e̩̰̱̝͜ty̖ ͚̝͍͕o̪͍̟f̴̹̞̥ ̬̠̘̦͈t̪͎h̠̪̖͔ḙ̢͕̮̭̼i͏̬̮̻̺ŕ̫̰̗̜ ̭̪͠u͏̼n̷d̪̹̹é̱r̛̜̮͈̺̖̻̩ẃ͇͓͕̺͇̬a̖͎̤̱̜͕t̬̙͙̤̠̠e̩̫̤ṟ̘ ̡͇͖̮͎͙̖c̖̜͘a̹͜v͏͔̯̤͎̯͇ͅe̴̫,͍͎ ̣̙̳̻̼͖̭t̪̪͕̥̰̬h̢o̟u̹̗g͙͕̪̥̱͙h͇ ̜̱̗̩̺he̝̳̲͙͘ ̞̭͔̦̤͝m̸a̶̤̦͚͙̟n̪̥̜ạ͖̫̙̗̻ͅg͍̟̟͟e̥̙͈͚͖̯d̵͙ ̮̜̤̟t̸͓͙̱͖̗̱o͘ ̡̣̩̺͚̹have s̼̮͕̮n͓͔͈̣uck͎̪ ̗̰o͖̲̼͢ͅu̼t̪͕̹̙͕̱ͅ ͕͍̻̹̙̝̘͠à̱̮ ̬̮͕͎̩ͅf͈͉̯͕̬̭e̻̤w͝ t̜͉͡i͉m̨̰̪̗̖e̴͖s̫.̛̤̖̦̝ͅ ͓̮̙

Yet ̗̲̹͈̭h͙̤̯̟̱̀e̢̯̭̹̘͎ ̻̩̼͔̜̱n̙̖̥͕̲e͉̺ve̠͡r̲̖̞ ̷̦̻̼͚̙o̷͖̯͇̰͎n͓c̙̺̞̜e̲̖̖ ̧̮͎found ̮t̸͉̟h̫͓ͅḙ͇̗̠̭̗̙ ͖͓͇͜c͍̠̣͇̤͞o͏̪̣u͈̩̮̮̕r̰̙̦̪͘a̢̟̭̺̰͖͕g͉̼͉e ͉͔t̙̥̬o͈͔̪̱ ̞̲͓̼̹͇a̼̟͓͖̱̫̭p̞̫͚̦p̝͇̭̮͙͝r̤̠̖͓̹o͏̘̭̫a͍̬̫̮͙̞c͉̤h̗̕ ̛̗̠the h̢͚̫̗̪͓̘u̳͇̬̭m̹̩̦̦̙a̸̩̭̰͔n̯ ̞̜v̮e͏̝̣̮̙̗̭s̼̮̥s͉̠e͚l̛s͔̱̱̥̮.̕ ͚̞̣̠Ḁ͓͔͕̺̞̘f̖̹̮͎̫͚t̘̻́è̯̞͓̮̯̪r̤͍͍ ̣͖̳͉à̜̣̘̪̼̼ḽ̦ḷ̮͎͡, ̨̻̦t̷͈͍̘̫̠͉h͍̭͟e͏y̱̤̝͈̭͙ ̛̯̘̩̲͇̜͕w͕̖̟ͅe͙̮̪ͅr̢̼͈e̷͖̲ tau̷g̡̗͚h̟̮t͍͈̻͜ ̞͎͚i̕n̞ ̺̮̺s͓̱̻̰̱c̶̟͇̪̘̹̮h̖͙ơ̹̭̹̖͎o̵̻ļ̫̺̦͎ͅ ̯̜̖̭̗͓t͕̦͚ͅo̘̤̭̤̣̤ ̬̳͓̬̝̥͟a̦͖̙ṿ̮̞͉̠̼̘o͙̺̩̞i͇̟d͚͖ ̼̠̥̩̯t̟̠͔̰ͅh̵e̦̲͓̱̪͉m̱̰̻̟̳ ̫̦͎̜̯̙̀a͈͕̼t͙͈̰̝̕ ̺̤̪͍̩̥̳̕a̢̤̟l͍̭̮͉l̘ ̢̭͈̯͕̱̮c͇͈̭͇ͅo̘̰̦̭̤̦s̷̬͖͙͕t̹̖̲̩͍͓̥s͙̩̝, they were taught of the,̸̰̫͉͉ ̨̙̮̦̺̳̣of̤͍̙ ̵̣̥t̳̪͜h͕͖͕̺̥̝e̪͚̲͈ ̗̦͖̘̹̬ḓa͉̪̮̠̻̲̗͡n̝̻̣g̲e͍͉̫r͏s̬͚̜̟ ̲͇͈̬̥̜̗humans b̸̺̮r̰̟͖̭͖̠̺̕o̥̤u̪g̳h͖̘͙̟̥̤t̯̦͔̩͚̗̯ ̭̥̞͍̙ͅt̥̖̼̱͖͔͜o̡ ͍͔̟̰͍ͅt̷̖̗̯͉̦h͙̖͚͟e̮͕̪̲͉ s̞̙ẹ̢̜̝̺̰͙̩a.͙̖͔ ͙͞

̥̯̦̤͕"̧̫̱̖̦̻̰T͚̳̣͈h̘̻͓͈͍̖̤͟e̠͇̞̻̪͖̝̕y͔̠̝̳̞̙'̘͖͇̥͢r̘͍̥̲͈e̡̤̳̹̤̻̗͙ ̤p̫͍̘̠͟ọ̖̺̲͡c̗̙̪ḵ͎e̶͚t҉s҉̘͖̠̭̼ͅ ͇̙̱̪̺o̶̦f̶͙̻̰̬ ͙̻͇̺̙d̹̦i͜f̮̬̮̙̝͠f̦̖̭͞ͅe̡͙̲r̬̞ͅͅe̵̠nt͎̙̞̟͎̣ ̺̲̣͉̭͔́ͅd͙͙͍̼̭͇̟ḭ͇̲̗̺m̼̮̼̫̞̱̕ͅe̬̲̙̦̻ṇ͢ͅͅsi͏͇o̟̥̯n͇̼s͕͟,͎̭̱̗̬̪̮ ̲e̦a̢c̝̦̝̰͖̥ͅh̲ͅ ̲̥̤̹c̩̫̦̠ͅr̕e̻͍̱͙͎ͅa̵̤t͎͈̗̙e̥d̠̰͎ ̩̳̥̯̝̯̻͘u̳̼̕p̴̗̗̭͉o̴͖̫͓n҉̦̟̠͖͎̺ t̜̦͖̣̮̭͜ͅh̯̳͕̟͕͘e҉ ͇͉̩̼̯̟͖͜d͏̤̪̣̺i̛͔̦̞̯͓̣v̟̳̺e̲̩̻̫̺̬̱r̝̼͚͉̮̙̲g̱͖̣͔͖͖̙e̟̣͚̰͕n҉͙c̥̗̗̮̘̪͔e͉͘ ͔͙̙̙o̙̼̙̝̞f̨̝͎͇ ̨t̩h͚e͈̕i͔͍̖̙͜r̷ ̲͍̟͖ͅo̕r͍i͏g̮͖̫̥̜̠i͠n͜a̭̻̲̪͘l͓̱͕ ̯̻̥t̡̙͍͓̤̠i͚̩̤͔͠m̭͈͇͢è̳̙̻͕l̞̞̼̟̟̘i̧̬͍̳͓͇͓̱ņ̙̱͍̗͎e̤̝͚.͕̰̝̤͟"̗͈̥̰̗̺̀  
̠  
̫̙̝͕̪͓̙̕"͓̝̟Is̮͓̰̺̼͜n̡̰̠̣̞̣'͏̖t͕͙ ̥͍̟̬̀t̫̻̝̺͔̤͓͝ha͖̪t̯ ̵͖a̸͖̩͍̮m̨a̹̳͔z̥̼̘̼i̸̮̟̤̩̗n̩̖̯̰̫g̱̬,̤̳͕̤̤ ̢̙̺̥̲̰̤K̗a̡l͓̣͔̬̪̀e̕t͓̬̤̳hu̸͈͍͕͈̳͙̗l̷̪h̩̺̻̝̲ͅu̫̻̙͍̮͕͟?̨̙͍͕̘͖̥ P͏̥e̝̣͍̩r̛͚ͅha̪̞̬p͝ș͖͍ ̮̫̦̪̳͚̜a ̶͍̤̹w̳͙͉̱ͅo̶̺ͅr̲̹̻̖̮l̖͖d̤͓̘ ̶wh͈̭̪̼͘e̫r̬̻͕̖͇͎̬̕e͎̝̠̖̜͠ ̬͉͙̮̲͚̗w̩̤̘̖e̝ ͏͖̘̯̜͈̮ŗ̻̮͎u̠̹̹ͅl͏̖̺̻̘̟e̬̱ͅ ͔͈̞͎̦t̻̻͇̦̲h̵͇̜e̪̞̪͡ ͏̰͓̰̗͉̹l̦͇͜a̡̘͉̻ͅn̴͓̯͇͓̙͙̭d҉̱͎̞͔̙͕̦s ҉͔̙i̷̭͉̲͈̺̺ņ͈͙̘̙̞s͙̣̱̳t̘̜̙̲ͅe͔̘͇͎̰̠a̠͈̘͙̻̰̠d̡̳̤̮̺̱̗̟ ̢͇͓̤̼͖̭̞o̶̙̠̖̺f͖̹̘̺̺̝͢ͅ ͎͎͚̲ͅͅh͝i̱͙̳̞di͓̘̠̞̞̩n̯̠̳g̸͍͎̳ ̼̖̲̺͢l̙̹̺i͓k̡̠̤̤̰̬e̦̦̹͕͍͚ ̴c̞̤͈̩o̦͙͠w̦͍̱̦̺a̺͝r̘̝̯̞̻͠ͅd̤͓̘̠̥̭s̜̤ ̢̭̝̟i̼̻̝͓͇̙͖ṋ͍͓ ҉͖͚̼̠̹̠t͉͓̻͇̩̝h͓̳̳e͎̺̳͚͍ ͎̤͕͖̫̙̯s̪̬͖̠̟͝e҉͙̲̜͚̘̲̫a̩͈͖͜.̴͔̱"͠ ̮͔̞̪͚͢T̯̗̲̘̖̥̺h̛e̜̳͡ͅ ̲̰ọ̪̭̣l̤͎͕̭̯ͅder ͟c̡̯̦r̘͇̱̦̪̞̣͢e̲̻͚͉͔a̹̝̰͙̻̰tu̯̞r̤̗͇͈͚͕e̲̺͚̫͚̞͝ ͖̺̺̯̤̖r͞o̭̟̭a̧̘̥̻͕̳̜r̸͚e̦d͉̦̮̝͉̳ͅ i̗͔̳͚̰̜̟n̶̺ ̙̝e̛̬̣̩͕̲x̶̠͓͕ć͈̟͎i͠t͕͕͉̤͞e̹͈̲͖m̜̼͉̯̠̱ͅe͎̳͠ṉ̮̻͇̺͎̬̀ṱ̼,̮ ̫̫̥̩̫͇"̩̜̱wḩ͎͉̗̮͙͈̣e̬̣r̢̥͚̼̫̳̠e̩̻̪̬͘ ̦̯̩̝̙̥w̜̪̰̟̥̥̗e̱̰͙̫̜̘ ̦̤͕̝͉͓̱b̪̩̪͙̰͙a̺̘̪t̪͎̩͇̲̱͞ḩe͉ ̦̤͖i̝͕̪̻̙n̴̰ ̸̰͕̭̣t̠̮͝ẖ͙̯̞͖̻̪è ̹̗̙͚̱͙͡ͅb͚͈̜̩l̳͇̥̦̯ͅo̰͙̰o͕̺̹d̼̦̼͎̘̜̩ ̞́o͖f̻͚̮ ̲̳̲̙͔m̖̠͉̩͍̖͞e̦̗̹̳̰̬̝n̲͕̘̹̲̕ ҉̘̱̜̖̖̮ẁ͖̣̳͇̬h͢i̶̦l̟ḛ̯͓̲ ̼͇̞͔̮̼̬͢t̜͚̺̗̫h͈̯͉̖͉̠͢ey҉̼̰̼̱ ͙̱w̥͙o̳̠̭͝r͚̲̗̠̪s̸͙͙̭̱͚̺̘hi̥p ̣̜̮͇u̹͙̹̰̹s͓͍̤̬̯̟͠ ͉͈̤͖̀a̯͕̜̱s̜͔̬̦͚̰͘ ͙͞t̯̞h҉̫͔̥͕͕̤͚e̺̼̩ir̫͚͖̗̼̩ ̞͈̹̕ͅg̢̳̟͕̝̪͍ó̮̞̥͚͓̠d̳s̟̫̗̩͕͝!͈͙̭̠"̫̥͕̞̼́  
̟̞  
̻̬̮͍̱̖Th̖̙̩͡e ͅt̥͔í͙̮̣͖͎̥̼n҉̣y͙͙̱̳̞͘ ͙̹c̪̗r̭̕e̳͔̙̤̟̝͝a̩͚͉͖ț̙̮̯ͅu̧̼̗̰̻r̨̬ḙ͓̣͉ ̖̭n̫͜o̯͔̮͔̭dd̛͍͙ͅe̲͙͙d̤̩̻͈̤͖ ̖̲̯i̙n͍̱̙̖ ̶͖̝̮͍ṛ̣͙̀e͓̣̥sp͎̙̙̼͍ǫ͖̰̟̩n͉̰̥̹͇̣͈s̛͈͓͔͎̯̻e̡̫̗̠͍̦,̫ ͚̙t҉̦̹̖͓̝h͎̦͖o̭̭̙̗̻̺̞u̯͕̤͕͈͖͍g̰h̟͉ ̖̺͇h̢̘̜͓̭e̴͖͓͔̩͈͍̯ ͏͍̼c̡̩̜̝̰͇̠͖o̯͇̣͇u̠̠͙l̠̳̬d̦̭̟n͢'̡͕͇t͎̟̯ ̣̯͎͞ḫ̫͍͉ę͕̻̲͉l̞̥̙̼̯p̗ ͈͔̺̺b̡̥̗̯ͅu̖̪͇̪̭̙ͅt̖̺̜͓ ͖̤͓̹̱̜i͟m͔̦̮͖̦͓̯a̲̜g͓͎i̩̥͇n͎͡é͚̟̯̮͈̭͈ ̡̝͓̣̜ͅa̪͔̜̗ ̵̪͖w̢ǫ͉̤̗̯ͅr̖̰̭̱̲lͅd̺ ҉̝̘͙̝w̺͔̰̖͇͘h̳͖͠e̗̻̭͚͖ͅr͕͖͙̩̞̹̬͝e̢͖͈̮̯͓̖ ͓͍̱̗̭͢h̺̞̯̫̫͜u͙̣̙͙̙͖̱͜m̢͉͍͇a͚̼̤̤͔͘n̶͈s̠͈̬͖͉̺̺ ̤̩̭̱̘̠a͍̥͚̜͉͉n̪̪̫̺͈͚͟ͅḑ̥̩̪͔ ̛͇͉͉̻C̛̻t͈̣͉̰͈̟h͚̮̥̙͇̺͙u̘̕ḻ͔̭̼̭h̬u̠̦s ͈̝̺̜͙͞e̗̠͍̦̳xi̪̳̻ͅs͠ţ͓͔̖̬͈̠e̹͜d̶̻ ̱́i̲͉͍̹n͉͍̪ ͉̻͇̻ha̷̯̬͍͔͎ͅr̰̜m̦͞o͎̼͕̥̭n̡̳͇̘̣͕̯ỳ̗͔͔ instead,̨̳̩̯͓̠̼̜ ̛̣̙w͎͎̹h͓̫̥̜e̸͙̟̮̤r҉e̻̻̮͞ ̳̬̫̼͍̦t̘̙h̴̳̟e͏͙̫̮̳͖̯y ͙͍̤̜͢w̧e̡͉͖̫̜̩͙͇re̮͍ ̺̖͍̯̺͓͇b̞̝̺͇͔e͈s̙̰t̲̜̩̮ ̼͍͚ͅo̤̦͖͓̬f͖̮̤̪̟ ̧͔̘f̻̱̹̞͓̼̗r̜͍͉̟̜ì͎͓̩̻̠e͏̟̻̟̭̺̖nd̜͓̕s͔̝͡ ̧͔̪̹̤̥̟i̵n̴̥̤̻̟͉̻s͇͇t̻e̜̝͙͕a̞̪͘d ̤̳̗̩̦̘̦o͍̹̣̗͚f̤̝̠͈͓̣ ̧̦̖̦̣̼̭̞ḛ̼n͕̲͚e̲̺͎͍m̡i͎̭͎͕̯͜e̩̦͘s.̺̘̼ ͞He had no friends here.

H̗̲͙̀e͏̭̦̙̝͔͔ ̱̖͍̠̙͖̤o̯͔͇̺f̻ ̠͉̜c͈o̙͈u͎̠̦͍̠̗͟r͘s̫̣e͏̦̞ ̖̥͇͕̜d̳̦̣̦̳̭i͇̞̟ͅd̦̪͠ ͎̬̖̳n͍͙ot͘ ̴m͎̲̤̣̼e̻̬ń͖̥t͖͚i̛͖o̴̝̣n̲ͅ ̦͎͉t̷h͔̜a̪̻̼̗̰̦͜ͅt̛̫̟͉̱ ̭̭͙̞̗̩̕t҉͔̯̗̺o̴ ͉͚h̲i̢͖͉̱̩̦̯ͅs̛̞̫̯̣͙̙͙ ̛͖̝̰̩m̳o̩̫͚͓͓̼͖t̵̻͎̘͎h̻̬̗e͔̳̞̥̙r͖͖͔,̛̜̭̝̫͍͚ ̩l̠̹̠͈̱͠e̡͈̘͕̪̯̤a̝̠̦͔̖̪͘st̟̮͕̟ ̦̱̖̺̝͠h̘͉̤̤i̘m̜̰̟̳͡ ͕g͇̠e̬̹t̞͙̠̯ ͇̠͇a̷n҉̤̘̪̝͓͎̳o̝͉̖̪ͅt̶̜͓͈̥̖h̪̹͈͙͈e̳̖r͈͈̺̟̦ ̷̬̞̗̠s̼p̬̫̝̟a̙̜͓͚͚͓ṋ̺k̯̲̗̺͈͢i̸̝͖̟n̡͍͈̼g̴̤̞͉͙̟͍̜ ̠̘͉͈͈̠a̸̖ga̻in̪̘͠.̱̪͓̪ T̩̜w̸̗̘e̸l̟̯̪͘ṿ̯̺̭̥e̷̬̝̼ ͇͉̳̮͞t̪͕̥̥̬e̠̩̲n҉̣̥̯͔͔̹̜t̫̟̼a̦̪͉̙̟͇c̝̘̹̀l̖̭͔e̯̺s͚̼̣̣ ̛̹̞aren't pleasant at all.̠ ͈̻̤͚̬̜  
̪͕̦̺̬͇͉

* * *

**Earth Prime: Year 2020, April 23, 18:23 PM.**

"Have I ever told you about the multiverse?"

She smiled amidst tears as she cradled the dying man in her arms. She started to sob, her body heaving with each pained breath, her arms tightened around him, like as if she could keep his life from slipping away.

Tears cascaded down the side of her reddened cheeks, falling down onto the man in her embrace. They splattered across a suit of the same shade, where it trailed down the side of his body, into a growing puddle of blood beneath them.

"Please…" She begged as she pulled him towards her, pressing him against her trembling form. "I… I can't do this without you... You promised me… that you wouldn't leave me like the rest did..."

"After Cisco and Ronnie..."

"You promised me that no one else would die, that nothing would happen to you because you're the fastest man alive!"

"Please Barry…" She buried her face into his neck; the smell of smoldering rubber overwhelmed her, reminding her that the transpired events were not part of a dream. "I love you, please…"

"Y-You… You asked me about the Multiverse," she whispered, "our research is almost there. We still do not know much about time travel… but we're almost there Barry… We can go back and save Cisco and Ronnie…."

"Please Barry, wake up…You have to wake up..."

"I love you…"

And she collapsed, onto him as her wrecked sobs echoed loudly across the empty lab, her coat fluttering across the gaping hole on the center of the man's chest.

**To be continued .**

* * *

**A/N:** You all have to admit. A timeline with Cthulhus written in Cthulhu font is GENIUS.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2.**  
  
Earth ????: ????  


The weather was a lot chillier than she had remembered. Her breath was a white plume against the winter's night. The building was also a great deal smaller and not as grandiose as she remembered. Perhaps it was simply a part of her brain trying to process the magnitude of what she had accomplished back then, trying to deal with the marvelously unimaginable opportunity that she was presented with. Being hired by S.T.A.R labs, being given the chance to work not under, but with the great Harrison Wells himself.

Though he did turned out to be something else entirely, and with things never really did ended up the way they should, fond memories still existed within the place itself. Even with the death of the people she worked closely with, the calamities they encountered, the hardship they endured, there were simply memories that she would forever hold dear.

The things that she learnt, that she discovered, the people that she would encounter, the ones she would befriend, and the one that she would fall in love with.

They were all part of this place.

She pulled her coat tighter around herself as she stepped into the crumbling ruins of the S.T.A.R labs building, the tips of her fingers trailing against the walls, her eyes closed as memories, as clear as stars in the night sky came flooding by.

She snuck past the red tapes crisscrossing the interior building's entrance, ignoring the half a dozen "danger" signs plastered around the walls, warning of the unstable ruins. The once great lab, reduced to nothing but a decaying shell, as collapsed walls and fallen pillars stood in its once glistening white interior. The noisy and busy ground floor filled with dozens of scientists scrambling towards their next experiment replaced by the eerie chill of… nothingness.

There was something about this ill-fated building, ominous… sinister. The homeless stayed away from it, even birds themselves do not fly near. Being built at the edge of the city and having most of the roads and other buildings around it destroyed during the cataclysmic fight that took place between the Flash and the army, nothing else could be heard. Even the winds were blocked out by the building's walls.

The shadows seemed to only grow longer as she ventured deeper into its heart, yet for some reason she was not the least bit afraid. Perhaps a tiny hint of nervousness at what she came here to do, but as a scientist, she dealt in numbers, not luck, she would not fail.

It was not long before her careful footsteps echoed softly inside the main hall, nostalgically upon the room where they had spent the longest of times together. Though covered in tarps that were in turn covered with dust, she recognized the main hub situated in the center of the room. So many nail biting moments spent behind the desks, watching and listening to Barry's breathing as he faced whatever adversary that threatens the city on that day.

Most of the time she stood quietly by, reading and recording his vitals, taking note of any abnormalities of sorts, making sure that everything was alright. Cisco was usually the louder one, cracking jokes and making all sorts of unfunny (most of the time) puns. It became a lot quieter ever since _that day._ She knew that neither one of them would ever hear his voice again, but they hoped, every single day, to hear him hilariously name the new metahuman they would come across.

They never did.

Her finger grazed across the dust, cutting a line through its surface. It saddened her, deeply. Conflicted emotions.

On the very night Ronnie lost control and evaporated half the city along with him, they tried their best to deal with the aftermath. Barry ran for days, to try and save every single person he could, from trying to prevent the expanding radiation, to carrying critical patients across the country. The hospitals there could no longer handle the amount of people that required help. It was only afterwards did she allow herself to crumble, and she did.

But then he was there. Always, like he promised. The fluttering of her curtains the only warning before she felt the bottle of pills knocked away from her grasp. He picked her up from the floor that day, held her tighter than he had ever held before. She remembered his trembling touch, the light crack in his voice betraying him when he told her that everything was going to be okay. He made her promise that she would never again attempt anything as foolish, and she in return made him promise to never leave her side.

They were only two, but the bond that they had only further strengthened in those times. And it was not long before she fell once again, but this time, for him.

Even though he was with another.

They moved back then, to another city only forty five minutes away, to continue on with their lives. They were outnumbered, they no longer had the resources they once had, but still they fought on, to save lives, to try and do the right thing. They brought Iris in one day, told her everything. She was of valuable help, occasionally bringing them vital information to act upon before the crime even occurred. She truly had eyes and ears everywhere in this city.

They trusted her, she because it was statistically improbably for her to betray her fiancé, and him, because he's hers. And because of that, she could only watch from a corner, from the way he changed from a naïve boy, to a hardened hero, and the way he held Iris in his arms.

Then one day, she too was gone. An IED they were told, exploded as the vehicle she was in rolled over the hidden mine. She was in a war torn country, trying to report on the inhumane crimes being committed beyond the public's view.

He was furious. She tried to stop him but what could she have done. He returned a day later, staggering back into the room that they rented, bloody, broken. Bullet holes littered his suit, which was crimson in a mixture of his own blood. He fell onto his knees, she caught him. This time, it was her who held him as he sobbed into her shoulders; it was her who told him that everything was going to be okay, even if she did not believe a single word of it.

Weeks later, another body gone by. Detective West, a single gunshot to his temple, with his own gun, surrounded by dozens of empty bottles. His corpse smelt so heavily of alcohol, they had not required a test to determine the cause of his suicide. They cremated him, except for the picture of Iris he held in his palm. It was what he would have wanted.

It was that day, when she reached out and brushed away his tears. She pulled him close, not knowing of what she could do other than to offer a tiny bit of comfort. She remembered looking into his eyes, seeing all of the hurt, the pain. She wanted nothing more than to take it away. Perhaps it was why she kissed him that day. It was salty, clumsy, awkward. It was neither passionate nor... anything else.

A simple peck.

But it made him smile. Albeit the briefest of one.

And now he too, was gone.

She pressed her palm against a hidden biometric scanner, waiting for the decade old system to acknowledge her presence with a slight rumble. A concealed entrance, revealed only to the proper personal. She moved close and spoke into a tiny device by the side of the door, "Caitlin Snow, project, Treadmill."

As the entrance parted, she thought of two things. The given warnings of the men who killed the Flash. Of what her actions would bring forth. Then him, she thought of him. She weighed the probabilities between the two, scientifically of course. She did not have to, what she wanted to do was downright stupid. An unproven theory, an equation of sorts. One that would put even universes that she could not imagine, at risk.

They would be coming for her as well, the so called Enforcers, the ones that murdered Barry in front of her and telling her of the dangers that he represent. The very same dangers that she might bring forth this very day. "The multiverse…." Her voice was barely a whisper as she recalled the chilling words that the man spoke.

_"The multiverse is a collection of thin threads. And each time someone attempts to alter an event in the past, the thread itself shakes and trembles in response. Do it over and over again, it will break. And it would be the end of all worlds."_

Saving Barry at the risk of causing the entire Universe to collapse upon itself? At the end of the day, it was still, a simple decision.

**To be continued.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3.**

**Earth 9063: April 23, 15 minutes before the Flash's death.**

From another time, they came. A brief shimmer in the air moments before a materializing portal of sorts. The first thing she came to notice was the sound of their boots clattering against the lab's floor. Steel soles that dug into the ground, cracking the tiles beneath their feet. There were five of them, faceless, clad beneath darkened masks with reddened eyelids and slits at the two ends of their necks which hissed with each breath they took.

They towered over the two of them, their size seemingly inhuman, or perhaps simply an effect of their suit. It took barely a second for him to acknowledge them as foes and not allies, implied by the many weapons of sorts strapped to their frames.

Files scattered behind the both of them, papers sent flying as a reddened streak shot towards the intruders, almost as instantaneously as they arrived. Yet it was like as if they were prepared for him, the one in front of them quickly knelt to the ground, erecting an energy field that encased the entire group.

The impact shook the entire room, but the force field held, sending the figure in red towards the opposite direction, slamming him into one of the Lab's doors. He tried to get back up, but static surged through his entire frame, causing him to convulse where he laid.

"Same as the others," the one in front spoke, as they unhinged their weapons, a bar like object that extended outwards in their grip, a staff of sorts. "Move, it'll only hold him for so long."

The staffs crackled in their movements, menacingly as they approached the fallen speedster.

Darkness clouded at the edge of his vision, his breathing was slow, he could barely move his body, but he was alive. His elbow pressed against the cold floor, an attempt to bring him back up to his feet. It was then he noticed her presence, the sound of her heels as she ran in front of him, positioning herself in between him and the approaching five.

He wanted to shout, to scream, to beg her to get out of the way, but he could not move. Unbeknownst to him, billions of tiny nanomites were transferred onto him the moment he clashed onto their energy field; they weaved themselves into his skin, holding him firmly in place. He tried to focus, tunneling onto her voice, listening to her plead for mercy as he started to vibrate his molecules, he could movement slowly returning to his extremities.

But he was too late. He watched, as the masked figure's arm connected with the side of her head, sending her flying into a stack of tables. He collapsed again, but this time he could move his legs, she brought him just enough time.

They seemed to have noticed his apparent recovery, stopping in their movements and instead forming a defensive circle, the staffs raised up high. Instead of running into another trap, he shot to the left, running in the direction of where she should have landed, pushing the fallen furniture away. He saw her slumped in a corner, blood running down the side of her chin. She seemed dazed, but she was alright, her worried gaze finding his.

"We have to get out of here," he muttered as he clutched onto his right shoulder, something felt broken. She shook her head in response, looking downwards as he noticed the pipes that have stacked onto her foot. He reached for it, straining as his fingers dug into its metallic surface, leaving dents as the tossed them aside.

"Go-"

He did not manage to complete his sentence. Blood spurted from his mouth as the front end of the staff impaled through his suit; he tried to run forward, only to feel another penetrating his flesh, then another, and another. He felt himself rising, being lifted into the air as the weapons kept him in his position, screaming as electricity resonated through his punctured organs.

She could no longer tell who was screaming, and when he finally stopped, they released him, his lifeless body crumpling down in front of her. She crawled towards him, tears streaking down the side of her cheeks, "why!?" She screamed at the suited figures, "do you know who he is!?"

"Do you realize that you've just killed the Fl-"

"Yes," his stoic voice sliced through her quivering words, it felt almost… sad.

"We know who he is."

"We know of the Flash, of his heroic deeds, his bravery," he continued as he reached for the side of his mask, sending a hiss of air as he unlatched the valve, revealing a scarred face underneath. A long gash ran down the side of his face, across his right eye, leaving only a cybernetic eye in its wake, the other portion of his face was mangled, his flesh warped like as if smashed against a speeding object. "You misunderstand our intentions."

"His death is necessary for the survival of all life."

"What are you talking about?!"

The staffs retracted, reducing their lengths as they slipped them back to their side holster. "Have you heard about the multiverse? They're pockets of different dimensions, each created upon the divergence of their original timeline."

She froze as he continued, noticing her rigid stature, "you should have learnt of it through Harrison Wells, you're in the world he created as he travelled back in time in order to kill the Flash. The idea of what he had done, it grew in your mind. Time travel through speed. You've talked to the Flash, about using its concept to resurrect the comrades you've lost, trying to change the fate of time."

"And by doing so, you will shattered the natural course of the universe, for your own selfish needs."

"What not a single one of you realized is the consequences of your actions. Time is not linear, you are unable to directly change future's course by traveling into the past. But instead, you create a different universe each time you do so. The universe itself is a thin thread, you do not create an entire new multiverse, instead, the thread stretches, thinning itself as it divides."

"The very first division might have been due to the actions of a righteous Flash, but the consequences were dire. It created the first multiverse that existed alongside the original timeline, and now, there are hundreds of thousands of threads. The multiverse is on its breaking point, threads are colliding, snapping as they come into contact with one another. Yet more are created each day, unknowingly by the man who would destroy all life in all universes. "

"As much as we try to change nature, it has a fixed course. It'll always try to bring itself back into the converging point. And when the strings are stretched too closely, they re-merge with one another, sending two worlds into the path of one."

"We're not… evil," he almost sighed, "We've lost our own world that way. Billions of lives lost as we watched our own planet collide against its own twin. It's now… a duty."

"The strength to destroy the entire universe should not lie in the hand of one man. Worst off, unknowingly. Thousands of Flashs we've killed since we started on our journey, and thousands more we'll kill. To prevent the complete destruction of our entire universe, we will not stop, until every single speedster is wiped from existence."

He thought about the Caitlin Snow he had left alive in that one timeline many years ago. He wondered if he had made the correct decision, before his weapon pierced the heart of the one in this.

**To be continued**


End file.
